


violets are blue

by prosodiical



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2022471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosodiical/pseuds/prosodiical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prior to Germany, Loki plants a seed to grow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	violets are blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smallbrownfrog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallbrownfrog/gifts).



> Warnings for mind control and all the issues that come with that.

"...and that's the wrap up, boss."

Loki looked up from his contemplation of his hands, of the staff he was clasping so tightly his knuckles were white. He relaxed his grip as he took in the useful mortal, the warrior with the bow and arrows. When Loki had first turned him, he had only a glimpse at his mind and will, and thought he could be useful; now, he had made himself invaluable by his knowledge alone. It was Barton who had contracted what he termed 'muscle men', pitiful insects who would not ask questions for a paltry amount of gold at the end of the day, and Loki knew if he had been reliant on his own resources he would not currently be in so comfortable a lair. "And the iridium?"

"I've got some locations," Barton said. His mouth was twisted slightly in annoyance; Loki brushed over his thoughts, picking through his ideas. "The security's tight, though; we're either gonna need a distraction or an eye."

"I can give you both," Loki murmured. He had been considering putting on a show, and it would be amusing to go prod the sleeping dragon, as it were. Reducing these Avengers' morale in the process was an additional bonus. "Where would you suggest?"

Barton considered. "Depends who you want to rattle," he said. "Stark's easy - Afghanistan, maybe, but their media's pretty lax; you could probably get Cap in Germany, that'd be - ironic." 

"And the lovely Widow?"

Barton's eyes flickered, his thoughts rebelling; Loki pushed on their mental connection, flooding his irises back to blue. "I don't know," he admitted, finally. "Nat doesn't get attached to places; too sentimental." His lips twitched up into a smile with a touch of resignation.

"Oh?" asked Loki. He had known from Barton's brief run-down of his opponents that they had been close, but the extent of it had been irrelevant at the time. Now, though - Loki would have to wait for Selvig to have the machine in near-completion before he could get himself captured, so all he had was time.

"Yeah," Barton said, "but it's the same with people, really. I think Nat says it best - 'love is for children.'"

"And do you refuse to love her in return?" Loki asked, with a studied disinterest, inwardly amused. Barton was easy to read; the answer was clear in his hesitation.

"She's," said Barton, and paused. "Nat's not fussed about sentimentality, you know? She's in it to complete the mission, to kill who needs killing; she puts up with me because she owes me a debt." He looked down at the floor, then peered up at Loki through his eyelashes. "She reminds me of you, a little, boss." His lips twitched slightly, a flicker of personality shining through. "I think you'd like her."

"Oh?" Loki asked, voice sharp and dismissive, feeling the anger he held too close to the surface start to rise. "A mere mortal?" Certainly, Loki had liked mortals before - useful ones, like Barton, or ones who rose above the rest of their species and were passingly clever - but the presumption was overwhelming.

Barton's eyes flickered again, his mind turning quiet cogs beneath Loki's control, and he said carefully, "I just think you shouldn't underestimate her, boss."

Loki had been scheming for more than a thousand years; he knew he was annoyed beyond measure as he gripped his staff, pushing his control over Barton further. Certainly, he had heart, but with heart came intelligence and will; it had served him well whilst organising logistics, but he would not need it much longer. But he had to hold off, Loki remembered; Barton had to sneak into a facility for the iridium, Barton needed to shoot down their flying metal contraption and organise transport of the machine to Stark's Tower, Barton needed to fight. Loki relaxed his iron grip on Barton's mind with that justification, but the man already looked overwhelmed, half-swooning where he stood.

Perhaps a lighter touch would be more effective, Loki mused, and set the staff aside. "Come here, my hawk," he said. Barton obediently kneeled by his feet, sending a rush of pleasure up Loki's spine as he buried his fingers in Barton's hair, as he pulled his head toward his knee. "Come now," Loki said, soothing, "you have done well for me today."

"Thank you, sir," Barton said fervently, and Loki had certainly pushed too hard, as the man sounded close to infatuation. Loki knew he could tug it further, Barton utterly willing, and considered it for a moment: that pretty mouth stretched wide, that tightly-muscled body laid out beneath him, his for the taking - but no, he could be far more delicate than that. The staff he had been provided was perfect for blunt-force control, but Loki had always been a student of the more quiet and insidious mind-magics, the ones that snuck up when people weren't looking. Loki's clever ideas surpassed himself sometimes, and this was one now. 

"Yes," said Loki, half to himself, and petted Barton's hair like he would a favoured pet. "You love her, do you not?"

It was a slight non-sequitur, but Loki knew it needed no clarification. Barton tensed slightly, then relaxed against Loki's calf under his ministrations. "I," he said, hesitant, "yeah, I do."

"What a foolish girl," said Loki, keeping his voice low and soothing. "To give up such a prize. To never acknowledge your true worth, the sheer heart in you," and he let his hand fall to Barton's chest, over his heart. Barton's eyes fluttered shut as Loki sank tendrils into his mind, weaving doubt into his thoughts. "Perhaps," said Loki, delicately, "you should call me by name."

Barton's eyes snapped open. "Loki?" he breathed, and one of his hands came up to clutch at Loki's own. It was strong, callused, the hand of a warrior. The look on Barton's face was inexplicable; but no, Loki had put it there.

"Yes," said Loki, and the slight smile came easier. He twisted slightly in the chair - hardly fit for a Prince, but comfort had been sacrificed for expediency - such that Barton was kneeling between his legs, still with that peculiar look on his face, part awe and something else. "You are aware," said Loki, "you have done much for me here."

"It was nothing," Barton demurred, looking down. Loki reached out and lifted up his chin with his fingertips, then let his hand linger there, against the swift-growing stubble on his jaw. Barton gazed up at him, and Loki had to admit it was quite fetching, the adoration on his face, the pink rising on his cheeks. Once he had won, perhaps there would be time for such things.

"No," said Loki, "certainly not nothing," and then let himself look away for a moment as though gathering his thoughts as he gathered his magic. "Do you believe -could you love another as you do her?"

"Oh," said Barton, and picking up on the underlying meaning, gave Loki a confused look, wide-eyed. "You don't mean..."

"Not now, certainly," said Loki, and managed another smile. "This is hardly the place for such things. But," he said, leaning forward slightly, "I wanted you to know, my hawk, that I will never let your talent be forgotten, I will never let your heart go to waste - " and he had both hands cradling Barton's face now, his magic reaching out with purpose. "Please," said Loki, affecting an earnest expression, "simply consider me." 

Barton rose off his haunches, placing them nearly eye-to-eye. He was a handsome man, but it was the startling intensity under Loki's careful control in those bright blue eyes that made Loki pause; that made him still as Barton tipped his chin down until they were sharing breaths. "I'll consider you," Barton murmured, the awestruck edge still in his voice, and Loki let his eyes flutter shut as he reached out with his magic, as he leaned a bare inch forward to capture Barton's mouth with his own.

Perhaps love could not be fabricated, but what Loki knew as love - devotion, attraction, fascination - could, and with this physical contact, with the nape of Barton's neck beneath his hands and his mouth yielding under his, it was simple to send out slivers of magic into his mind, tying those bonds tight. It's but a seed of love as it stands, but such things feed on themselves, grow until they are no longer ignorable, until they are an integral part of a person's being. Loki let himself pull back, and said on the edge of a breath, "You will be loved."

Perhaps it was a lie, but Barton's eyes now shone with the beginnings of something far better. Loki knew the idea had taken root in his mind, and thought with satisfaction, _I will be loved_.


End file.
